


Video Killed the Internet Star

by chucks_prophet



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bisexual Character, Bisexual Dean, Charlie Ships It, Coming Out, Everything is Beautiful and Nothing Hurts, Fanboy Sam, First Kiss, First Meetings, Fluff and Humor, Implied/Referenced Sex, Light Angst, M/M, Mechanic Dean, Mild Language, Pansexual Castiel, Pansexual Character, Sam Ships It, YouTuber Castiel, YouTuber Charlie, read to find out (maybe), who might also be bisexual
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-11
Updated: 2015-09-11
Packaged: 2018-04-20 07:37:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4778996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chucks_prophet/pseuds/chucks_prophet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean doesn’t know how it happened. </p><p>The only thing he remembers is waking up bleary-eyed from the Sandman’s untimely visit last night and then there were swarms of people crowding his view of the midday sun. </p><p>Benny came plotting into his room moments later, clad in a thin wrinkled undershirt and black slacks from the night before. He scratched the bedbugs out of his ginger beard before shifting his focus from the fervent crowd to Dean. “You ‘specting anybody?”</p><p>Or the one where Dean's drunken coming out video goes viral.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Video Killed the Internet Star

**Author's Note:**

> This is a byproduct of watching too many Shane Dawson videos.

_"Hey, internet. So, uh, this is me, Thursday’s Angel, for those of you bio-reading-impaired or had no idea how you got here and needed some form of clarification. Sorry if you were expecting Zac Efron. For the record, so was I._

_“So I'm fetus when it comes to the whole social media thing... Yeah, lame, I know. I'm 20 going on 80. Although, I'm not sure I wanna see my grandpa twerking it out on the interwebs. That would be the beginning and end of my online career. Unless you're my parents, then it's a ‘demoralizing democracy of idiocracy’, which isn’t too far off. I mean, have you seen those ads for Carl’s Jr.? Yikes._

_“Sorry for the rambling. That happens. Bear with me. I have some good stories to tell. If you guys will have me, I'll have you.”_

Cas paused the video just before the credits, laughing to himself. The only thing fetus was that face. A face like that was seared into his brain like every college deadline he’d ever had.

His skin looked like it hasn’t seen the sun in ages. His hair was surfer-blonde lying on dark-brown roots, not quite framing his face the way it hung on his forehead like a damp mop, making his face look fatter than it actually was. Corded around his neck like a boa constrictor was a giant pair of headphones you’d find at a secondhand store. His glassy blue eyes were heavily-lidded, baggy underneath from hours on _League of Legends_ the night before. His lips were in the worst shape, with more cracks than the Sahara. Or Donald Trump for that matter.

A wave of nostalgia washed over him. Only when he lapped at the swell of his bottom lip did he know he was crying. Yes, watching a 240 pixel video of a washed-up member from ‘ _N Sync_ was a cathartic experience. Laugh if you want, that was _him_ three years ago.

However, that wasn’t the only reason tears were spilling from his eyes.

To his viewers, today was just another Thursday. For Castiel, it was his world on a plate.

Breathe in, breathe out, he told himself, strapping his tears to his eyelids. He pressed the button that activated the little blue light above his screen before he could let the bowels of his emotions further destroy his face. He couldn’t afford to look like a jilted lover on prom night. Maybe for his next segment… if there was one.

He sat up straight and faced the camera dead-on.

“Hey guys, so we have a lot to discuss…”

***

Dean was working in the underbody of a 1985 Chevrolet Cavalier, a dinosaur of a car; when he hears the erratic shuffling of feet belonging to none other than his gangly little brother. Sam attended morning classes at community down the road, leaving him no choice (read: everychoice in the world, like, say, _going home_ ) but to endlessly bug Dean.

Not that Dean minded the company, but there was no way in hell he was going to tell Sam that.

“ _Dude,_ you won’t believe what just happened.”

Without sliding out from the car, Dean replied, “Mom called and said she wants her hair back?”

“Very funny,” Sam said, letting a single brown lock fall into his field of vision. “Cas posted a video.”

Dean scoffed. Cas was some guy on the internet Sam was obsessed with. Dean suspected he was some fifty-year-old poser on one of those nudie sites at first by how _thoroughly_ Sam knew him. Turns out, he was a twenty-something Youtuber choreographing his life through videos (and yes, he _was_ thorough; from what he’s heard, some of his sketches are a bit racy).

Still, with a penname like Thursday’s Angel, the guy wasn’t far from packing twenties in a strip club.

His eyebrows went in even though Sam couldn’t see. “Isn’t that kinda his job?”

“A coming out video,” Sam explicated. Dean’s creeper nearly flew out from underneath him.

“You are most definitely _not_ going to tap that.”

Another detail he knew about Thursday’s Angel: He lived locally. Like thirty minutes away local. “Dean, I’m nineteen,” he griped. There was a considering pause, then: “I don’t even swing that way!”

Dean eyed his brother precariously as he stood up, wiping his oil-slick hands on his jeans. “I still don’t get why you like the dude. I mean, if he’s good-looking that’s one thing—”

“Update: Still straight.”

“—but if he mostly blogs about—”

“Vlogs,” Sam corrected, “with a v.” Dean rolled his eyes.

“Sorry, Zuckerberg, if he _vlogs_ about his everyday life, then what’s the big deal?”

“I don’t know, Dean, why don’t you ask his five million subscribers?”

“ _Five mill_ —” Dean tapered off, mulling over that information with a pensive expression. “And he gets paid for these _My So-Called Life_ ’s?”

Sam looked like a five-year-old who got the last ‘no you are’. “Welcome to the twenty-first century. Do you want your Tamagotchi upgraded to a Transformer?”

“Tamawho?”

Sam’s hand went to his forehead.

***

“ _Hey guys, so we have a lot to discuss. There’s no easy way to say this but—”_ Dean paused the video, plugging in his headphones. With his buddy Benny cooped up in the adjacent room, he wasn’t going to risk exposure. Not like he was _indecent_ or anything—or that it was his own _room_ , for that matter—but he would be lying if he said he didn’t have any ideas. Cas, Thursday’s Angel, Castiel Novak, whatever you want to call him, was definitely easy on the eyes.

Sitting on top of sun-kissed skin was a mop of borderline black hair, tangled and shambolic yet somehow fit for a sculptor’s hands. Deep and rich, his eyes were the kind of blue that made the sky’s reflection look dull in comparison. His lips were pink and slightly chapped, but packed with a cereal box promise whenever he spoke, gravel sanding his words.

Not that he pictured those lips doing anything _weird_ , okay? It’s just something he picked up on after the first dozen videos.

Dammit Sam.

He pressed play, but not before glancing over his shoulder one last time and taking a long drag from the slender bottle next to him. Two down, ten to go. “ _I’m, uh, I’m pansexual. No, that doesn’t mean I get a hard-on knocking Calphalons. This wouldn’t have been so… to, um… sorry…”_ Cas was out of frame for a short period of time. It wasn’t until Dean saw the faint outline of a tissue did he realize he’d left the tap on. “ _Wow, ha, that joke was so bad it made my eyes water._

_“Uh, anyway… pansexuality basically means, I, uh, love everyone… I’m trying to use the KISS rule so I don’t start a full-on Tumblr war. I’ve seen the message boards… I mean, faggot’s not even the worst. People can call me whatever they want, I just, um… I didn’t want to lie to you guys. You’re the reason I’m doing what I’m doing. I don’t want a 9-to-5. Pants suck, okay?_

_“Sorry if you’re watching this in 1080p. You can probably see the salt grains in my tears, or that one booger I’ll have to edit out later. Emotions aren’t convenient, but that doesn’t mean you have to be. If any of you guys are in my position, don’t ever let anyone tell you your sexuality is unsound, okay? You are not invalid and neither are your feelings. Each and every one of you deserves to be happy._

_“This has been my official coming out video. Until next Thursday. See ya later, assbutts.”_

Dean didn’t realize his mouth was an opportune cave for flies and other small insects until his earbuds fell out. He squared his jaw, biting back the same unwelcoming impulse to cry. That said a lot because Dean didn’t even cry at SPCA-sponsored commercials.

After little internal debating, he clicked the Start menu and opened a new program. When he saw his lone reflection staring back at him, he hovered over the button at the bottom and hit record.

“Hi. Uh, most of you don’t know me, but my name is Dean Winchester… I'm an Aquarius; I enjoy sunsets, long walks on the beach and frisky women. I’m also bisexual.”

***

Dean doesn’t know how it happened.

The only thing he remembers is waking up bleary-eyed from the Sandman’s untimely visit last night and then there were swarms of people crowding his view of the midday sun.

He couldn’t pick out a single face. He would have better luck with Benny at Mardi Gras, where every Tom, Dick, and Harry over the age of twenty-one was packed like sardines on a single fairground, not to mention decked in a motley of masquerades. (That was the first and last time he let his best friend talk him into a drinking match. Mardi Gras was no place for handsy lightweights.)

Speak of the devil; Benny came plotting into his room moments later, clad in a thin wrinkled undershirt and black slacks from the night before. He scratched the bedbugs out of his ginger beard before shifting his focus from the fervent crowd to Dean. “You ‘specting anybody?”

“I, uh…” Dean struggled for a viable sentence when he swung his head (had his head always been this heavy?) to his open laptop. Next to a domino of empty beer bottles and drowned sorrows was the red and white YouTube logo. “Holy—”

“Shit, talk about a tough crowd, huh?” Dean barely registered Sam’s voice over the sound of his newly gravid mind and the slow climb of his thumping heart. The video on the screen was titled _My Coming Out, Losers_ and paused to show him, the same clothes he was in now, nursing a beer and staring into the camera with a sideways smile. His eyes swiped the view count: _125, 765._

That wasn’t when he refreshed the page. Then it hit one million.

Before he could properly flip his shit, Dean’s entire screen flared blue and he thought he was getting hacked until a square icon rested in the middle. Below were buttons to accept and deny the… video call? Warily, Dean sat down and pressed accept.

“ _So you’re the guy who’s stealing my viewers? I’ll hand it to ‘em, they have good taste.”_

Dean’s mouth dropped. Before him was Castiel Novak, aka Thursday’s Angel. And… did he just call him hot? Say something, idiot. “Uh…you too, have good taste, I mean.” Smooth.

Sam’s comment was quick to follow: “No. Fucking. Way.”

“I’m goin’ back to bed,” Benny grumbled, leaving the room.

“You’re Castiel Novak, like _the_ Castiel Novak,” his brother gasped, running up from behind Dean and pushing him out of his desk chair. Dean hovered over Sam to get a better view.

Cas eyed them both curiously and Dean suddenly felt small. “ _Brothers_ ,” he noted, the quirk of his eyebrow giving him away. “ _Man, this must be my lucky day.”_

“Alright angel boy, cut the crap,” cut in Dean brusquely, earning an elbow to the ribs from Sam—and Sam had pointy elbows. “What’re you doing on my computer?”

The youngest put in his two cents, but not before shooting daggers at Dean. “What my brother means is… is… you’re Castiel Novak!” Dean rolled his eyes.

“Thanks for the ID clarification, Sam.”

“I was just saying—”

“ _Guys, guys, hey, don’t fight over me. There’s more than enough to go around.”_ The brothers turned their attention the screen again to find Cas staring at them through long lashes and dilated pupils. His eyes were even bluer on his screen, if that were possible. “ _I’m here because I heard through the grapevine that a devilish-looking someone made a coming out video inspired by yours truly. So I found the video last night, watched it, was_ extremely _touched, and, you know, promoted it a little bit.”_

Sam forcibly tore his gaze from his idol long enough to toss his brother a questionable look. “Wait… you made a coming out video?” Dean juggled air before backing away from the laptop.

“Sammy, I…”

“ _I see you guys have a lot to talk about… I’ll just call back later—”_

“No! My brother’s stupid, ignore him,” claimed Sam, whipping his focus back to Cas.

Cas must have seen the tension mounting in Dean’s shoulders because a moment later he said, “ _I don’t think there’s anything stupid about it, Sam. Like I said, I was extremely touched by your video, Dean. You have this rugged, James Dean-type charisma, but you’re also earnest. Whether or not your intention was to post it, you did a brave thing.”_ He paused, mulling over his next thought as he bit down on his lower lip. _“And rightly so, because now I know you’re available.”_

Sam swiveled in his (read: _Dean’s_ ) chair to find his brother doing the same to his lip. Dean prayed to whoever had their ears on that the call quality dropped a few pixels so Cas couldn’t see the blush spread like Land O Lakesbutter across his face. “Dude, if you don’t hook up with him, I will.”

“Really?” Dean probed. “What happened to Sam ‘Still Straight’ Winchester’?”

“I am! It’s just… it’s Castiel freaking Novak!” he defended sharply. “You wouldn’t understand you’re not an assbutt.” Again, Dean rolled his eyes.

“I don’t know, man, seeing as I just professed to the whole world that I swing both ways because of some influential internet star, I think I’m worthy of a complimentary t-shirt.”

“ _What are you doing tomorrow?”_ Cas interjected. Cautiously, Dean inched closer to the laptop, like the person staring back at him would jump out of the screen.

“N-nothing, just… uh, nothing.” God, between the sweaty palms and tripping over his words, he felt like a horny teenager all over again. “Why? Wait—do you know where I live?”

Cas pursed his mouth to the side and looked off into the unforeseeable distance. “ _I may or may not have used my savvy internet skills to stalk you last night.”_ Dean stared on, gobsmacked but none the less turned on. Cas continued without relent, “ _I don’t edit until Tuesday and I’ll be in town tomorrow anyway to meet up with my friend Charlie for a new segment… I’d like to meet you if that’s okay.”_

Dean wanted to say hell yeah, more than okay, by all means, be my guest, give my bedsprings something to squawk about the next day, but all that came out was “Sure, why not?”

Cas beamed so hard Dean thought the connection would break. “ _Cool. Okay. See you then.”_

Once Cas was gone, Sam looked up at Dean through jubilant hazel eyes. “Oh I’m _so_ down.”

***

Cas stood at the door of the Winchester-Lafitte apartment, palms sweating bullets from being tightly coiled around a bouquet of flowers. Nothing too fancy, just store-bought hydrangeas. He thought the blue, purple, and pinkish hues to be fitting considering the occasion.

He can’t say how long he’s been standing here, presence unknown save for the bright orange orchids sitting on the front porch coupled with the ratty house mat below his stubborn feet. It’s amazing how nervous someone as ordinary as Dean could make someone like him, a twenty-one-year-old internet superstar with millions of adoring fans. Maybe he craved ordinary. Maybe ordinary was something missing from his peculiar life.

Or maybe Dean was just too handsome and sincere _not_ to seize his attention.

He knocked on the door in time with his fitful heart. The person behind the door didn’t do it any favors. Nor did his web camera do any justice. With the stream of light shining through the entryway, everything was in color. Cas could see the golden highlights in his hair, the glossiness of his plump reddish lips, and the black contours outlining his masculine jawbone. Like a high-res digital camera, Dean’s smile slowly came into focus. Albeit nervously, Cas mirrored the action.

“Cas...” The comment came out in nothing more than a huff of air. Dean’s emerald eyes tracked the flowers. Cas nearly strangled his vocal chords for a response as he thrust out the hydrangeas.

“Oh, these are for you. I wasn’t quite sure which flowers you liked—or if you even liked flowers—but I figured these had a, uh, certain flare to them. That’s not weird, is it?”

Dean accepted the carnations reverently. “Not at all. I see what you did with the uh…”

“Yeah, um, yeah,” Cas replied oh-so-intelligently, scratching the back of his neck with his newly free hand. They continued to stare at each other for an eternity until a second head formed on Dean’s broad shoulder.

“Cas! Hey, come on in!” Sam’s hand flew out like a saucer from underneath Dean’s arm. Cas shook it not nearly as vigorously.

“Of course,” he said, though his gaze was still directed at Dean, “always nice to meet my fans.”

Sam nudged Dean in the ribs with his elbow, which looked notably pointy. “Dean, aren’t you gonna you know, invite him in?”

“Oh man, sorry, I’m a horrible host, come on in,” Dean gestured, guiding Cas inside with the feather-light touch of his hand on his back. He was warm, much like he may or may not have imagined on the way over…

Dean led him into the kitchenette, where a burly man in a rosy apron was chopping what looked like green onions at an expert rate. The aroma of various spices and sauces tickled his nose.

“Cas, this is Benny, my best friend. Benny, Cas.” Sam’s eyes lit with euphoria as Dean’s lips curved around the last word. Cas couldn’t see himself growing tired of the effect he had on people.

The third party, Benny, was older than Dean’s twenty-something, with an ingrown beard, crew cut hair, and eyes so blue they challenged the sea. He grazed over Cas with a raised brow. “Wow, you are a handsome fella.” The YouTube Partner flushed a deep shade of red.

“Oh, uh, thanks…”

“Benny makes the best gumbo in the tristate area,” Dean rambled. “You ever had gumbo, Cas?” Castiel shook his head. Dean clamped his shoulder with a grin. “Well that’s gonna change soon. Benny, we’re gonna take this to the balcony, if that’s cool with you.”

The older gentleman just waved him off with the flick of his hand. “Get out of ‘ere.”

“Sam, why don’t you help him out?”

The younger brother threw his head back. “What, why would he—?” Sam paused, decoding a message in Dean’s eyes that Cas couldn’t quite see at his angle. “ _Oh._ Yeah, right, you two go ahead. I’ll catch up with you guys later.”

“After you,” Dean said, gesturing to the back patio. Cas stepped ahead of him with a small smile.

***

"Wait, you _what_?”

“I swear on my unmarked grave.”

“And you did it for _how_ much?” Dean asked fixedly.

Cas titled his head contemplatively, taking a swig from his beer. “Twenty bucks, more or less.”

“What does that mean, less?”

“Well,” he began carefully, propping his feet up on the balcony ledge, “if I would’ve let him use more tongue I would’ve gotten double.” Dean nearly choked on his cigarette.

“Sorry, I just.... uh, I don’t know what to say to that.”

Cas shrugged, saying, “Neither could he” before they looked at each other concurrently and burst out laughing. He was surprised how natural this was, two guys swapping beers and stories. Cas felt like he should be in _The Notebook_ or something, where there’s an appropriate flash-forward to a time of rocking chairs and fading memory. “Yeah, I mean, it wasn’t the greatest experience, but that was before the glory days and hey, it was decent money. Luckily that wasn’t when I found out.”

Dean blew out a perfect smoke ring. “How did you find out?”

“Well, there was this girl in Junior High, Atropos. Super pretty, blonde, cheerleader, you know.” Dean gestured for him to continue with those bright green fields of his. Cas wet his lips. “I, uh, I liked her at the same time I liked this other dude, Balthazar. He had the same stunning good looks, blonde hair; captain of the Chess Club. A couple days later, I go into the bathroom and there’s Balthazar…”

Dean hung on his every word, staring at him with an intensity that could burn the sun. “What?”

“… Letting his hair down,” he disclosed. “And I still had the biggest hard-on.”

The other man’s mouth hung agape. “Well shit, I was just gonna say I had a crush on Dr. Sexy MD.”

“The sexy doctor at Seattle Mercy Hospital?”

“Marry me.”

Cas grinned coyly through his bottle. “Maybe after a few more of these.” Dean scoffed, nearly shoving him off his plastic chair. Cas just laughed again.

 _The Notebook_ was definitely his favorite movie.

***

Sharing a fleeting but nonetheless beautiful kiss involving the ripened taste of gumbo and leftover pecan pie, Cas decided that that was his greatest experience he’d ever had.

***

“Hola assbutts! I’m here with overnight sensation, Dean Winchester.”  

“Also his boyfriend,” Dean added, gesticulating between them. Cas blanched.

“Also my boyfriend,” he confirmed.

Sandwiched between them was a girl not unbeknownst to the World Wide Web. She wore her fiery red hair above her neck, pastel face irradiated by her green-henna eyes. “Sup, bitches? Not anyone’s boyfriend but I am single and ready to mingle for all the ladies out there.”

“Thanks for that, Charlie,” Cas said as Dean was leaning in to kiss him, but Charlie covered both of their mouths with her hands and pushed them back before they could play tongue-of-war.

“Aren’t they disgusting?” Charlie asked the camera, shooting them mock-warning glances. Though the audience would never see, both boys burst out laughing before defending that they were just trying to ‘get the ratings up’ on her channel. Unfortunately, Charlie knew Dean’s boyfriend all too well. He was trying to get something up alright, and it wasn’t the ratings.

Still, she hasn’t seen him this happy in a long time. She couldn’t help the smile that crossed her face.

“ _Anyway,_ first we’re gonna set the record straight. Ya’ll have probably seen Cas’s coming out video. I’ll put a link in the bottom left-hand corner if you haven’t. Basically, if you couldn’t tell, Cas is in big, fat gay love with Dean. Cas is pan. Dean is bi. If that confuses anyone, check out a dictionary from your local library. Or join Tumblr. Thanks.

Now onto more important things. Last week, Dean-o here didn’t have the pleasure of watching me blindly lick strange things off of Cas’s body. I figured this week, since Cas brought him along instead of keeping him _anchored to the bed_ ,” Charlie paused, exchanging a knowing look with her best friend, who just looked sheepishly into the camera. “I’d let Dean lead this challenge. I mean, let’s be honest, who doesn’t want to see these lovebirds lick strange things off each other’s bodies, right?”

Dean shot down Cas with hungry eyes. Cas licked his lips before remembering they were on camera. “We could’ve stayed in bed for this challenge,” he mumbled.

“And they’re being disgusting again. Sam!” The youngest scurried in a few short seconds later, trading seats with Charlie. Sam was an awesome sex deflector. There was no way Dean would pounce on Cas (or vice versus) with his little brother there.

Besides, despite the around-the-clock flirtations, Sam was practically glowed whenever he had the opportunity to star opposite “the” Castiel Novak. The fact that Dean was dating one of the most iconic celebrities on the internet hasn’t sunk in yet, and he’s not sure it ever will. “Hey guys! So I’ll do the honor of tying up Cas—God, I never thought I’d be able to say that.”

“Tune in next week, folks, when my little brother comes out of the closet.”

Sam pushed his brother. “Jerk.”

“Bitch.”

“Just as a forewarning, babe, if you put anything on your lips, it’ll get X-rated real fast,” Cas cautioned. He couldn’t see Dean waggling his eyebrows with Sam’s careful hands, and despite the uncertainty that weighted heavy on his chest, somehow it felt like everything was going to be okay.

 

 

 

 


End file.
